You'll Shoot Your Eye Out, Kid
by msbaileyquarters
Summary: Arthur and his co-workers are assigned Santa's Workshop duty as Christmas comes to Gotham, and he meets a girl who's brought her little brother to meet Santa (unfortunately, Randall). Arthur Fleck x OC.
1. Happy the Elf

Warnings: Course language/talk. Some adulty subjects.

A/N: So I know it's sort of the wrong time of year for this, but thought I'd post this story here for the heck of it. Based on someone else's idea, but I couldn't resist writing about elf Arthur during the holiday season. :) Enjoy.

….

The Holidays, 1980

Christmas Season was in full swing around Gotham, the weekend after Thanksgiving. Which basically meant the city had hung up some blinking lights and limp garland between and around some light posts on its busier streets, while many businesses started advertising their various discounts, and Salvation Army Santas could now be found slowly ringing their bells on the nicer street corners that the prostitutes didn't frequent.

It was also a busy time for Ha Ha's. They supplied eye-catching talent to many of those businesses and sent out many of those Santas. But one of the biggest sources of income was supplying talent to the three malls in the area who needed a Santa Claus and a set of elves to placate the local kiddos who wanted to divulge their Wish Lists to Ol' Saint Nick.

"Did you know," Randall said, taking the cigar from his mouth, "Santy Claus was a real guy. Saint Nicolas, who was the patron saint of whores and whore houses." That factoid garnered some laughs from the other guys.

Most of them. Arthur, who sat at their make-up table, staring into a near-empty paper coffee cup, didn't want to believe it.

"No shit, really?" Patrick, or Paddy, as Ha Ha's resident magician was called, asked in disbelief. "They never told us that in Catholic School."

Randall was about to say something more, when their boss, Hoyt, stepped into the room. "Well well well, it sounds like the perfect assignment for you then, Randall. Gather up the nicest red suit and beard we have. I'm sending you out."

Randall stood up. "Wait, where?"

A sound of disgust escaped Hoyt. "Richland Mall, out in the 'burbs. They're startin' early this year, and I'm sending you, Gary, and Arthur to staff their Workshop for the season, startin' today."

Arthur turned in his seat at hearing his name. Richland Mall? That was indeed the nicest of the three malls. Not as hectic and snooty as the Midtown Mall in the heart of the city, or as trashed as Castleland Mall in the Lower East Side, which was frequented by many gangs. Richland was nestled among the suburbs north of the city. He'd never actually visited it personally, but saw their ads in the paper and on television, and it always looked like a beautiful place.

He wondered briefly why they were sending him. Because of his height, Gary was always sent to the best place this time of year, so that made sense. Arthur had worked Santa's Workshops, but usually at Castleland, which he dreaded going to like the dentist. Had even been mugged there a few times.

No point questioning it, he figured. In fact, he was sort of pleasantly surprised to hear this news. Arthur rose from his seat and headed for Ha Ha's costume closet.

He tugged the pull chain above him and a light flickered, before fully illuminating the space filled to the brim with colorful shirts, jackets, pants, shoes, hats, wigs, and more. He stepped up to the section with holiday garb. Since he was going to Richland, he figured something a little nicer was in order for himself as well as Randall and Gary. He shuffled the various outfits back and forth. Trying to decide.

Something green caught his eye. He pushed some outfits back to give it a better look. It was a rich, long, tailored velour jacket in emerald.

He slipped it off its hangar carefully. He slipped it on just as carefully.

It fit him perfectly.

He found a pair of forest green corduroy pants that also fit perfectly. A little more searching and he found a bright red button-up shirt that also fit, as well as a newsboy-style cap in a darker, almost burgundy red. At the last minute he decided to add his yellow vest from his Carnival get-up to this outfit.

He put everything on and looked at himself in the mirror.

He kind of looked like a pimp. A pimp from the Wizard of Oz.

It would have to do. He really wanted to avoid having to wear tights or anything like that.

To his surprise, Hoyt approved it, though he urged him to somehow make it more "Christmas-y and shit."

Arthur wasn't quite sure what that meant.

He sat down at their make-up table. One of the positive things about elf duty was he didn't have to wear the full face of clown make-up. Just some red on his nose and cheeks and that part of his get-up was done.

He mulled over what he could do to become more "Christmas-y" when the call came in from the other two Gotham malls, requiring Santas and elves. Suddenly everyone was rushing around, trying to find stuff to wear, trying to get ready.

Arthur slipped back into the costume closet. Several of his co-workers were already jammed in there, frantically trying to find suitable attire. Somehow he was able to wrestle some jingly, pointy shoe coverings and an enamel pin with candy canes on it.

"Where are elf ears? Do we have enough elf ears?!" someone yelled out.

"Just use the fucking Spock ears I bought! Use the Spock ears!" Hoyt yelled back.

Somewhere in this confusion Arthur was able to find Gary and Randall, who were also dressed and ready to go…except Randall had yet to slip the fake beard on his face. Gary gave him a look.

"What? It itches."

Hoyt provided them with just enough money for cab fare to and from Richland. They were shortly on their way to the mall.

"You look nice, Arthur," Gary commented as he watched Arthur slip on the shoe coverings. All three men sat in the back seat of the cab–Arthur on the right, Randall on the left, with Gary in the middle.

"Thanks," Arthur said timidly.

"Warm too," Randall chimed in. "Unlike our little friend here." Randall nudged Gary, who was wearing more traditional elf garb, including tights.

"They don't have something else you could wear to look like an elf?" Arthur inquired softly, feeling a little guilty.

"Nope." Gary sighed. "It's okay I guess. "Better than being juggled around by Hulk or being shot of a canon, I suppose."

"I suppose," Arthur repeated. He looked out the window of the cab at the buildings and people passing by. It suddenly dawned on him that he hadn't put on the enamel pin he grabbed at the last minute.

He reached into one of his pants pockets, where he had quickly stuffed it as they rushed out of Ha Ha's. He took it out and examined it. It was a sort of name tag made out of gingerbread and flanked by candy canes. It read:

"Hi, my name is Happy the Elf!"

Shit.


	2. Meeting

Warnings: Course language/talk. A bit of angst in this part; mostly fluff.

A/N: Yup.

...

"Annie! ANNIE!"

A girl with long, raven hair stirred and emerged from the blanket and pillow cocoon on her bed. "WHAT?"

"YOU PROMISED TO TAKE YOUR LITTLE BROTHER TO THE MALL TO SEE SANTA! Remember?"

Anne rose from her bed and rushed up to her bedroom door; flung it open. "OKAY! Okay, I'll be ready in 15."

"Hurry up!"

Anne slammed the door shut. She wished she could just sleep away the holiday weekend. She was home from college–the first quarter of her sophomore year just completed with a painful round finals, and she was dead tired and not really caring about the holidays. Much to the chagrin of her parents.

And why did Tommy have to go see the Fat, Jolly Guy so early? He had most of the month of December to go to the mall and spill his guts to the guy in the red suit.

Besides, wasn't her nine-year-old brother over the whole Santa thing anyway? She couldn't remember exactly when she learned he wasn't real, but it seemed like it was around the same time.

Anne looked in her vanity mirror. Okay, maybe 15 minutes was being optimistic….. She showered, dried her hair and applied some make-up, and donned a sweater, jeans, and her boots, before throwing on her long, shearling-collared coat as she headed downstairs.

She entered the living room to see Tommy sitting, waiting impatiently on the couch. "Where you been?"

"Rising from the dead," she retorted.

She looked over her little brother. Their mother had stuffed him into about four coats and sweaters, two scarfs, ear muffs and a hat, and pairs of over-sized boots and gloves. Anne shook her head.

Before she could say anything, their mother came out and handed Anne a set of keys. "Take the Olds. Your father filled it with gas this morning."

Anne let out an aggravated sigh. The Oldsmobile Titanic was called that for a reason.

"Now don't give me that look. Go on, you two."

Anne and Tommy came outside to see their father in front of the garage, fiddling with a large, tangled ball of Christmas lights.

"Having any luck, dad?" Tommy asked.

"Mmm hmmm. Sure. By the time you guys get back this whole house will be lit up brighter than the Fourth of July."

"That…sounds safe," Anne commented as she ushered her younger brother toward the wood-paneled Oldsmobile in the driveway.

Once Anne had pulled away from their house and they were well out of view, she pulled the car over.

"What are you doing?" her brother asked.

"Get out, so you can shed the excess clothes."

"Alright!" Tommy exclaimed.

Anne waited patiently while Tommy slimmed down to a pull-over sweater, a down coat, his hat, gloves, and boots. He tossed the rest into the back seat of the car.

"Let's roll!" He threw his arm forward.

Anne laughed. "Alright, big guy."

….

Richland was beautiful. It wasn't sleek like Midtown or cheaply built like Castleland. It had a somewhat modern design in soft whites and brown colors, with skylights in the ceilings. Many of the store fronts had wood paneling. The tile floor was all earth tones and set in a herring bone pattern, here and there, and all the planters were lush with green, thriving plants.

Nearly everywhere Arthur looked people were smiling, saying hello. Even though he, Gary, and Randall had initially accessed the mall by a service entrance at the back. Gary knew where this was, and led the way as they headed for the center of the mall, where Santa's Workshop was always set up.

And where it was again this year. They'd literally rolled out the red carpet for Santa and his guests, in a recessed octagonal area by the glass elevator and escalators. Near a once-live, decked out Christmas tree were a dozen or so small, fake evergreens, scattered around a small, gingerbread house behind a plush red chair.

Randall whistled–to the extent he could through the fake beard. "Nice set up."

The photographer arrived about the same time they did. Fairly young guy, maybe mid-twenties. "Hi there, my name is Brian." He took the time to shake each man's hand. Then he went about setting up his equipment in front of the red chair.

"There's someone else we're supposed to meet with…." Gary said as he looked around.

Arthur looked around too. Children and their parents were already starting to crowd around the space, looking at he and his colleagues with bright, expectant eyes. A few of the youngsters even waived; he waved back.

"There you all are!" a high-pitched voice called out. Arthur glanced over to where it came from and spotted a small, wiry bald man with glasses, holding a clipboard and carrying a small box, as he appeared from behind some of the fake evergreens. "You must be the group from…Ha Ha's, is it?" He said the name of their company with a touch of disdain.

Gary approached him first. "Mr. Dundee, you remember me, don't you?"

Dundee looked down. "Oh, yes. Gary, is it? Glad to have you back. I don't recall your friends here, though…?"

Gary introduced Randall and Arthur to the mall manger. Dundee hmmm'd at Arthur's appearance briefly, before taking Arthur and Gary aside and explaining how he wanted the crowds to be managed throughout the day, and handing them the supplies they would need.

"Good luck. I will have my assistant come down every few hours to give each one of you a break. Lunch breaks will start around 1."

Arthur offered to usher the first families in, who were by that time waiting in line behind a velvet rope. He unhooked it off the stanchion. "C'mon in to see Santa!"

….

Anne opened one of the doors at the west entrance of the mall for her brother. "So, what do you want Santa to bring you this year, anyway?"

"Why do you care?" he said, looking away.

Okay…. "What? Is it something embarrassing?"

"No…just…." Tommy's shoulders dropped.

Anne elbowed him. "Hey, you can tell me. It's okay."

"Well…." He hesitated just a moment before spilling out: "The latest BSA air rifle with an attached telescopic sight."

"Ah, I see," Anne nodded. "Probably something Mom and Dad won't approve of…."

"Yeah…."

Anne shrugged. "Well, maybe Santa will throw one down the chimney this year." Anne pondered whether she would have enough money to get Tommy one, and whether her desire to make him happy and piss off her parents was worth all the parental ire it would earn her at the same time.

As Anne mentally went through her shopping list and tried to do some math in her head, she and Tommy rounded a corner as they entered the main wing of the Richland Mall.

From there, they could already see the line of people waiting to speak with Santa Claus.

"Oh shit," Anne whispered. She hadn't planned on that line being so long. She figured she could do a little shopping beforehand, make a quick Santa run with Tommy, grab a bite to eat, then finish her shopping, all before coming home to dinner. But now those plans seemed dashed.

She looked down at Tommy. "We better get in line, like, right now."

He nodded up at her. "Agreed."

They joined the back of the line, which was all the way back at the Radio Shack. It seemed to be moving along fairly regularly, but still slowly enough that about 45 minutes passed before Anne and Tommy even reached the perimeter of the Santa's Workshop set up in the heart of the mall.

Arthur hadn't counted on it being this busy. Not that the crowds were rude or or raucous. So many of them smiled, said hi to him. A few even engaged in some small talk with him. Every half hour he would switch with Gary, being the elf to manage the line, or being the one to assist directly with Randall and Brian. Arthur loved being the one to make the kids smile for their photo with Santa; Gary even admitted he was better at it. Still, he sort of liked working the crowd directly a little better this year, they were so nice. One woman who had brought her two sons had also brought homemade gingerbread cookies for everyone working at Santa's Workshop. It was surreal.

Arthur was getting tired, though. On his first break, after smoking a cigarette or two, and after he had toured the mall–making sure to stop and grab any food samples being given out, such as those at the Hickory Farm store–he had had just enough money to buy a bag of peppermint candies from the See's Candies store. He was subsisting on sugar and niceness to get him through this shift. Staying alert by subtly swaying and humming along to the Christmas music pipped through the mall's stereo system, interspersed with some contemporary, everyday music.

Anne could see he was tired. The thin, tall elf with dark, curly hair and an outfit that made him look like a dancer at an Emerald City disco club. Still, he kept up a smile for everybody, and politely kept people in line where he had to, not that that happened all that often.

"Hi there," he said to her and Tommy when they stood maybe four or five people away from Santa Randall.

"Uh, hey there…Happy."

A few people had read the pin he wore on his lapel and called him that. He hadn't felt the need to correct them–until this girl.

"Actually, it's Arthur. Not that that matters all that much…." He looked down.

"No…no. It does." She motioned to the pin, toward his outfit in general. "Must be dehumanizing to have to dress up like this and try to amuse children for the holiday season."

Anne and Tommy moved up one person in line and Arthur moved with them.

"Actually, I…do this all the time. Sort of. Year round. I work as a party clown."

"Oh. That must be…. Actually I don't know. Do you like that or not?"

No one had really asked him that. His therapist had, sort of. But he knew it was a stock question she got from a piece of paper, rather than being prompted by actual curiosity.

"I do…actually. A lot. It's worth it to see the smiles on children's faces."

Anne smiled. "That's nice. I know I wouldn't have the patience for that sort of job.

Arthur just shrugged. "It's a livin'."

Anne smiled a little wider. He was sort of cute, in a weird, random way. Definitely older than her. Early 30s maybe?

Arthur felt a spark of confidence when looking at that smile of hers; he seized it with everything he had. "What's your name?"

"Anne," she said firmly, but with a smile still.

"What–what do you do for a living?"

"Nothing really. College student. I do odd jobs on campus during the semester, but I am technically, blissfully unemployed at the moment."

Arthur started to chuckle a little. His hand flew to his mouth. Oh no–not now. He had thankfully not had a laughing fit so far that day. Maybe because of the nice atmosphere, nice people. But did it have to strike when this pretty girl was talking to him, showing an interest in him?

He turned away momentarily.

"Uh, you alright?"

Luckily, he was able to suppress it. He breathed a sigh of relief. "So where do you go to school?" he asked as he turned back to her.

"Oh. Uh, Hudson University, in New York. I live on campus during the semesters."

"That's a nice school. Do you like it?"

Anne shrugged. "It's okay."

"What do you study there?"

"Pfft, what haven't I studied…."

They moved up in line again.

Tommy pipped up. "She can't make up her mind about anything, Mr. Happy Elf."

Anne glared at her brother. "Tommy, his name's Arthur. You heard him."

Well, shit. Now he was in love with her.

Not exactly. Well, he wouldn't have admitted such at the time, even to himself, but looking back later…yeah, that about did it.

Anne went through the list of majors she had been through: English Lit, Art History, Photography. She was currently toying with whether to go into archaeology or geology. "I liked digging things up as a kids, so…hey, who knows."

"That sounds like it could be fun."

"I've even played with the idea of transferring to Gotham University, maybe to be closer to home."

Arthur perked up a little at hearing that. "Gotham U is also a good school," he nodded.

"I don't know…. I guess my little brother is right, I have a hard time making up my mind."

So, the boy was her brother. He sorta figured. If he had to guess, she was barely 20, and thus too young to have a child his age, but he had been wrong about people's ages before.

They moved up in line again. The last child had run away screaming and crying from Randall, which hadn't really surprised Arthur, though the particular child itself had seemed antsy and sullen the whole time it had been in line.

Arthur searched for some other topic to discuss with the girl. He knew he should be walking the line, talking to different people in it, watching for any funny business. And he would glance up and down, keep an eye on things. But he felt drawn to Anne like a magnet. "Do you like the holidays?

"They're okay. It doesn't quite feel the same once you become an adult."

Arthur nodded. Something in him felt weirdly assured by her referring to herself as an adult.

"Do you?"

"Do I what?"

Anne smirked. "Like the holidays?"

Again, not something he'd ever really been asked. "I do, I think."

"'You think'?

Arthur liked the concept of Christmas and other holidays. He liked how the city subtly changed when it got colder and people seemed a smidgen kinder–though nothing like what he had experienced so far today at Richland. He loved the colors, the more innocent and beautiful aspects of each holiday. But he had no real personal experience with them. His mother, Penny, never really acknowledged them.

He had tried to, at various times. There was one year, when a Christmas tree lot had been set up on an empty lot he passed everyday en route to and from school. When people would drag or drive out Christmas trees from the lot, pieces of them would fall off onto the sidewalk and into the street. He would collect some of these, and by Christmas, he had collected enough to build a sort of "tree" held together by twine and tape. He loved the smell of it, even if it did look like a disaster.

He was frankly sadder the next year, when no Christmas tree lot was set up on that lot at all, even though it was still vacant.

"You look like you're deep in thought. Did I touch a nerve or something?"

He didn't want to share any of this with Anne, though. He knew how sad it sounded, and the last thing he wanted to do was make her sad in anyway. He tried to brush it off. "Oh, you know, you get busy. Adult stuff. It's not the same." He was quick to add, "And I don't have any kids or anything, so…."

"Yeah, I get it."

Anne and her brother were now next in line. Arthur felt his heart drop a little. He knew he needed to go down the line, do his job, but still.

"Hey, Arthur, do you want to switch off again?" Gary asked as he approached his fellow elf.

"Yes! Uh, yes. Yes I would."

He wasn't sure if this was lucky timing, or maybe Gary had been watching him and Anne and wanted to give him a break, but Arthur jumped at the opportunity nonetheless.

Once the last kid had left Santa Randall's lap, Arthur unhooked the velvet rope and motioned for Anne and Tommy to step forward.

Tommy did. He rushed right up to Randall and plopped into his lap.

"This is Tommy, uh, Santa Claus," Arthur informed Randall.

"Aw, shit, kid, careful you miss my nuts, okay?"

"What was that?"

"Uh, nothing. Ho, ho, ho. What do you want for Christmas, little Tommy?"

Anne, meanwhile, had stayed back. Close to Arthur, actually. Which left him feeling a little anxious, but excited. Anne was also a little anxious, though her anxiousness was directed at her brother.

"Well, kid–er, Tommy–other children are waiting. Ho ho."

"I want the newest BSA air rifle with full attached scope Santa!"

Randall finally fully broke character. "But, you'll shoot your eye out with one of those, kid."

Tommy looked crestfallen.

Anne stepped up. "Hey, fat ass. I mean, Santa. He's going to get one of those air rifles this year. Isn't he?"

Randall pointed to Anne. "This your mom, kid?"

Tommy looked at Randall like he was nuts. "No, she's my sister."

Anne shot daggers at Randall, before giving a smile and nodding slowly, as if to say, "Yes, he's going get one. Now play along."

Randall sighed. "Yes, then, my son. I promise you shall get…one of those rifles under the tree this year. Ho ho."

"Thanks Santa. Hey, is this real?" Tommy went to pull on the beard that was wrapped around Randall's head by a string. Randall caught Tommy's hand before he could. "Yes. It is. Now don't ask any more questions. Okay?"

"'Kay." Tommy was suddenly sullen. He moved to get off Randall's lap, but Brian, the photographer, had called out, "Wait a sec! Need to get your photo."

Tommy rolled his eyes, looked to Anne. "Do I have to?"

"Yes, or else Mom will…not be happy. Okay?"

Tommy sighed. "Fine." He frowned at the camera.

It was Arthur's turn to work his magic. He tried to make some funny faces, but that didn't work. Made some funny noises. Told some corny jokes. But Tommy wasn't budging.

As Arthur mulled over what to try next, Anne took the initiative. She stood slightly behind Arthur, so he wouldn't notice, and far enough to the side so Tommy could spot her over the photography equipment.

As Arthur told another joke, Anne raised her arm and flipped her brother the bird.

Tommy started to chuckle. So did Randall.

"Alright, one two three!" Brian quickly snapped several photos. "Perfect."

Tommy quickly hopped off Randall's lap. "See ya Santa."

"Uh, yeah. Merry Christmas. Ho ho."

Tommy joined Anne. She wrapped an arm around him. "What do ya feel like for lunch, big guy?"

Before Tommy could answer, Arthur approached them, holding out a card to Anne with with numbers stamped on it and Tommy's name written in pencil. "Bring this back in about a week, to the mall's office, upstairs by the food court. Your photos will be ready then."

Anne took it, and in the process their fingers touched. Both felt a funny little shock ring up their bodies at the contact. "Oh, thank you. We will."

Their eye contact lasted a longer than it should have, and both Arthur and Anne realized it around the same time.

"Um…thank you, for keeping us company while we waiting in line. It was nice to have someone to talk to."

Arthur smiled. "It was."

Anne nodded her head. Arthur suddenly felt a tap on his shoulder. It was Brian. "Hey, next kid," he said with a smile. Damn, everyone here was nice.

"I'll see ya around," Anne said, pulling away with her brother.

"Yeah, see ya." Arthur's heart dropped even further than before. Why couldn't he have the courage to do…something. Give her his phone number maybe. But then he sort of hated the fact that their respective, apparent ages sort of made him feel like a creep.

Arthur sighed, got back to work. After cycling through two or three more kids, Dundee's assistant came around. "Hey, it's time to start lunch breaks. Who wants to go first?"

Arthur was going to decline and let one of the other guys go, but then it occurred to him–hadn't Anne mentioned something to Tommy about lunch?

"Can I go?" he asked timidly. Randall harrumphed over in his plush Santa throne. Arthur looked over at Gary, who nodded. "Perfectly fine."

The assistant looked at Arthur. "Alright, you're first. Be back in 30."

"Yea–yes, I will."

Arthur was on his way to the food court.


	3. Annie Oakley

Warnings: Some language. Mostly fluff.

A/N: None

...

Anne and Tommy had gone to the Hot Dog on A Stick. She bought Tommy two hot dogs and herself a large chili cheese fry. They both got the freshly squeezed lemonade.

"I thought Santa was nicer," Tommy commented, as he stole one of the fries from Anne's basket.

"Santa gets…grumpy," Anne shook her head.

"I don't think the real Santa was," Tommy commented thoughtfully.

"What?"

"Aw geeze Annie, I know that dude wasn't Santa. I know he's not real, not really."

"Then why–"

Tommy shrugged. "I guess for the good karma. Throw some good thoughts out there, ask the Universe for what ya want, maybe something good will come back."

Anne tilted her head. Maybe her little brother was wiser than she gave him credit for.

Arthur, meanwhile, was looking around the Richland Food Court, trying to will his stomach not to grumble. There were so many delicious-smelling things here. He wandered around a bit, passing by the Pizza Hut, KFC, the Chinese place, the Orange Julius, the pretzel place, the Hot Dog on a Stick.

"Arthur?" He thought he heard his name called out, but he wasn't sure. He turned around, scanned his surroundings. Finally, his eyes fell upon Anne, sitting alone at a two-person table.

He walked up to her. "Um, hi! Fancy meeting you here!"

Anne chuckled after half a beat. "Uh, yeah, hi. Wanna sit?"

"Sure," he said with a shrug and a smile, trying to be non-chalant. Arthur looked around. "Where's your brother?"

"Ah, Tommy went to get some Dippin' Dots."

"I see." Arthur rubbed his hands up and down his corduroy-covered legs.

There was a bit of an awkward silence, before Anne broke it. "So how long did it take you to find me?"

Arthur chuckled nervously. "What?"

"Given the time, it's a safe assumption that you're on your lunch break. I spotted you earlier, looking all around, wandering the food court. I'm also guessing you either brought a lunch you've foregone so you can be here, or you don't have any money. Or else you wouldn't have just looked at the different food options longingly but not bought anything."

Arthur didn't know what to say.

"It's okay. I'm not creeped out or anything. Flattered, actually. I am concerned you're going to end up not eating anything on your break on account of me."

Arthur shook his head. "That wouldn't be your fault at all," he stated, his eyes downcast.

Anne frowned. "Look, I know we just met and all, but if…you want to share–" Anne pushed the basket of chili cheese fries toward him; a third of it had so far been eaten.

"You don't have to do that."

Anne shrugged. "Honestly I'm still so stuffed from Thanksgiving leftovers I probably wasn't going to finish it anyway."

Arthur still hesitated. His stomach grumbled in protest.

"I mean, what else have you eaten today?"

He considered that. "A glazed donut. Coffee with cream and four sugars. Some fudge and other samples from the Hickory Farm store. Half a bag of peppermint candies. Four gingerbread cookies."

"Jeeze, you're more sugar than man at this point."

Arthur smiled, wanted to Laugh, but he successfully suppressed it. "I probably should eat something…." he conceded. He reached for a fry and grabbed one well-slathered in chili and melted cheese. He ate it. "That is good."

"What's your last name, Mr. Elf?" Anne asked.

"Fleck. Arthur Fleck."

Anne nodded. "Owen, for me. Anne Owen. Don't call me Annie. Only my fiercest enemies call me Annie. Or my parents. Same dif."

"Why not Annie?" Arthur grabbed another fry.

Anne took a deep breath. "I guess because it's almost always been used in a pejorative way, at times to put me in my place, to poke fun. Makes me feel like I'm five years old. The only thing I hate more is my other nick name."

Another fry. "What's that–if you don't mind me asking?"

"Annie Oakley."

"Where does that come from?"

"Because I'm a 'straight shooter,' according to my father. I tell it like it is."

From what he had seen so far, that seemed accurate. Still, Arthur made a mental note not to use either nick name.

They continued eating, talking about random things.

Tommy came back.

"Hey, it's Arthur the Elf," Tommy said between munching bites of his colorful ice cream treat.

"Hi Tommy," Arthur greeted the boy.

"He's here on lunch. Speaking of which," Anne turned to Arthur. "Is it over yet? I don't want you to be late on account of me, either."

"Oh, I don't think–" Arthur glanced down at his wristwatch. He yelped a bit as he shot up from the table. "Gotta go, sorry!"

"I'll see ya!" he heard from behind him as he rushed out of the food court.

He was just one minute late. Gary didn't care, but Randall made a fuss.

"Christ, where were you? Dawdle much?"

"Sorry, I just…. I'm here now. Sorry."

Randall shook his head. "Well, it's time for Santa to feed his reindeer, if that's what they call it now. I'll be back in 30."

Brian was also allowed to go on break, since he didn't have much to do with Santa gone. Arthur and Gary worked the crowd, reassuring wide-eyed children that Santa would be back momentarily.

"Did you find that girl?" Gary asked at one point when he and Arthur found a moment to talk away from the families.

Arthur tried to play coy. "Wha–what do you mean?"

"I noticed you talking to her while she was in the queue. She seemed to like you."

Arthur could feel himself blush. "You think?"

"Oh yeah. A little on the young side, but she seems nice. Did you try to get her number, mate?"

Arthur's heart dropped to his feet. "No–no! I forgot. Again. Dammit."

"Cheer up. She might still be around shopping. Maybe you'll see her on your break."

Gary had a point. One which gave Arthur some hope.

….

The lines this year had been horrendous. Anne had waited an hour at the Sam Goody alone just to purchase one gift.

Tommy was becoming restless. "Can we go home yet?"

Anne sighed. "I still have a few things to get, including Mom and Dad's gifts."

Tommy rolled his eyes and groaned.

It dawned on Anne. "Hey," she reached into her purse and pulled out her wallet. She culled a dozen one dollar bills from it and and some quarters and held them before Tommy. "Think you can make this last for a couple of hours at the arcade?"

Tommy perked up at seeing the money. "Sure thing Anne!"

She chuckled. "Okay. Meet me at the entrance to Sears at…" Anne peaked at her wristwatch, "6 PM? Then we should probably head home."

"Gotchya!" Tommy took the money and pocketed it.

Anne watched Tommy scamper off to the arcade. She smiled to herself, knowing this was her chance.

After purchasing her mother a small music box, Anne visited the KB Toys store.

"Hi there Miss, can I help you?" a young man about her age in a blue vest asked from behind the counter.

"Uhhh…yeah. Do you have air rifles?"

"We do. Down the last aisle, against the wall." He pointed to a far corner of the packed-to-the-gills store.

"Uh, thanks." She headed for the indicated area. Found dozens of air rifles stocked on the shelves. She spotted the BSA ones, but there were a couple with a full scope attached.

"Need some help?" That young clerk had appeared behind her. It made her jump a little.

"Oh, uh, which of these BSA's is the latest model?"

"That would be this one," the clerk said, before reaching over and grabbing one of the rifles off the shelf. Anne stepped back a bit, so he wasn't so close.

"Thank you," she said.

The clerk smiled widely. "Do you need help finding anything else or can I ring this up for you?"

"That'll be it." Anne smiled politely. Was there a specific reason this boy was annoying her, or was it in her head?

She followed him up to the cash register. He was smiling at her a lot as he rung up her up, took her money, and handed her the receipt.

"You live around here, come to Richland much? You look familiar."

"Maybe," she offered, as she took the receipt.

"My number's on the back," the boy said, pointing with his chin toward the receipt. "Maybe I'll see you around sometime."

Anne turned the receipt over. There was indeed a name and number back there. "Uh-huh." Anne swiftly crumpled the receipt in front of the boy, was about to toss it before realizing she may need to keep it if she had to return the rifle. The boy gave her a dirty look, but she ignored it as she hefted the rifle into her arms and headed out.

Funny. Someone like that boy–fairly attractive, seemingly close to her in age, confident–should have been appealing. In theory. Yet he completely turned her off, as her mind kept going back to Arthur–someone doubtless a decade her senior, quiet and a bit uncertain, unconventionally handsome, working as a mall elf. What did he say he did normally? Party clown? She could already hear what her mother would say, but she didn't care. Anne regretted that their conversation never progressed to exchanging numbers, either time. But then she knew where he probably was….

Arthur, for his part, had taken his second break. He rushed-walked through the mall, looking all around. Unlike last time, he had no idea where she would be. There were plenty of pretty young girls around, but no Anne. She was a needle in a haystack.

As he got closer to the end of the mall anchored by JC Penny's, he saw her. Exiting the KB Toys. A long air rifle box was nestled in the crook of her left arm, while her other hand was shoved into the pocket of her coat. He wasn't sure, but it looked as if she was scowling.

They walked closer and closer to each other, but she didn't seem to see him through the thronging crowd.

Here goes nothing. "Annie Oakley!"

She stopped in her tracks when she heard that. That voice was familiar….

She finally spotted him. She smiled.

They walked up to each other.

"How funny. I was going to look for you."

Arthur's heart skipped a beat. "Really?"

"Yeah, I, um…." Anne set the rifle box down on the floor, as she swung around her purse. She dug through it. "Wanted to give you something."

"Oh?" Arthur looked on anxiously as she continued to look for whatever it was she wanted to give him. He looked down and realized she had bought that air rifle her brother wanted. What a sweet woman, he thought.

Anne was able to find a pencil, but she didn't really have anything to write on. Other shoppers passing by them were starting to give them questioning looks–the grown elf and the girl. Arthur tried to pay them no mind.

Anne finally gave up. She plucked the receipt from the Sam Goody bag–she just hoped Janey liked the album she got her–and started writing on the small end of the rifle box.

"Here, the top one is my parent's phone number, when I'm at home from school. The bottom one is the number for my dorm at Hudson, along with my extension." She looked up and smiled at Arthur as she handed him the receipt. "Give me a call sometime."

He took the receipt. "I will, for sure." He peered down at the numbers, tried to commit them to memory before carefully folding the paper up and slipping it into his pocket.

He looked back up and they locked eyes for a moment, before Anne looked down. "I better run this out to my car and stuff it in the trunk before Tommy sees it."

"Of course," Arthur breathed. He couldn't believe his luck in finding her, much less that she actually gave him her numbers without his even asking.

Anne hefted up the rifle box again, along with her bags. "Talk to you soon," she smiled, as she walked past him. He turned around and watched as she walked away. He thought briefly of running after her, offering to accompany her out to her car–would that be considered chivalrous or creepy?–but he knew he had to get back to Santa's Workshop.

….

The last young tyke to hop up on Randall's lap left around 6:15 PM. Santa's Village was closed for the day.

After Brian packed away his equipment, he shook each man's hand again before leaving for the day. "See ya tomorrow," he said as he waved good-bye before striding away. Arthur liked the man; he looked forward to working with him more.

"Time to call a taxi," Randall declared, as he finally pulled the scratchy Santa beard off his face. Down a hallway off the main concourse, they found a pay phone. They called a local cab company, who estimated a driver to arrive at the mall in about 15 minutes. They were also quoted a price that was going to be more than what was left of Hoyt's travel allowance.

Between what the three of them all had, they would have just enough.

They exited mall from the same service entrance they'd entered before. It was cold outside–much colder than that morning–and very windy. Santa and his two elves stood shivering underneath the mall's neon lights and its parking lot's lights.

"Hope they hurry their asses up," Randall grumbled. "Here," he offered, "I'll keep track of the money." He held out a hand to Gary, who had been holding on to their travel allowance.

"Mm, I don't know about that," Gary mumbled through chattering teeth as he stepped back a bit.

"What?! I can't be trusted with it?"

"It should probably just stay with me until we need it. Don't really see the point in the money moving hands right now."

"Well, I am higher up off the ground, less likely it will fall out of my pockets."

Gary scoffed, rolled his eyes.

"That doesn't make any sense, Randall," Arthur ventured to say.

"I mean," Randall started, as he dug around in his pockets for his own money he was going to have to contribute so they could just get home that evening. He pulled out the crumpled bills, holding them up in his hand. "We don't have that much, and if we ain't careful–"

At that, a particularly strong gust of wind snatched the bills from Randall's hand. "…they can disappear, like that."

Both Arthur and Gary grumbled out loud. Randall's contribution happened to be the biggest. Now with what they had left, they would maybe make it back to Gotham proper. Maybe.

"I can see how being higher off the ground made that money stay right in your hand," Gary quipped.

….

Nearby, in the Richland Mall parking lot, Anne and Tommy had just slammed the doors of the Oldsmobile against the cold. They rubbed their hands together and against their torsos and legs to try and quickly get warm.

Anne's shopping was finally done. She felt better, knowing it was all out of the way. Felt a pang of pride at knowing Tommy would be getting his air rifle, now snugly hidden away in the back of the Olds' trunk. Consequences be damned.

"Alright, time to head home. Hopefully Mom won't be too annoyed that it took longer than expected." Anne reached into her coat pocket and found the car keys. She inserted the key into the ignition.

The car made a horrendous grinding, clicking noise, but didn't start.

"Oh no…." Anne breathed. She quickly tried the ignition again–once, twice, three times–but it made the same noise. "Fu–" Anne started, but upon realizing Tommy was next to her: "dge."

"How are we gonna get home?" Tommy asked, worry in his voice. Hearing that made Anne's heart hurt a little.

She didn't know what else to do but let her head drop onto the steering wheel–

–which caused the car's horn to wail in the cold night.

She swiftly lifted her head up and it stopped. "Ow."

She sighed. Unsure what to do. She was pretty sure she'd spent pretty much all her cash on her holiday shopping spree. Maybe she had some change to make a payphone call, but she could only imagine what reaction she'd get if she called home and told their parents the news. What if her father came and saw the air rifle in the trunk? He'd…probably flip a little and make her return it right away. She needed time to hide it, maybe talk her parents into it.

"Hey!"

"Oh, sweet Jesus!" Anne's soul jumped out of her body at the sudden knock on her driver's side window.

"Hey, it's Arthur the Elf!"

"Yes, I see that Tommy," Anne commented, as she shut her eyes and breathed deeply for a few seconds, trying to regain her composure. Anne shoved open the driver's side door and stepped out.

"What are you doing here, Arthur?"

"Well, my friends and I heard your car. Sounds like it won't start? Also the horn–"

"Yeah, that was definitely me."

Arthur studied her face for a bit. "Are you okay?"

Anne sighed, shook her head. "I've been better."

"What's wrong with your car?" Gary asked, as he stepped up to Anne.

"I don't know…. I'm not the most mechanically savvy. And this old bucket of bolts has had a lot of issues."

Randall circled the car. He went to open the hood. "May I?"

Anne was unsure. "Uh, you know about cars much?"

Randall shrugged. "Used to work in a mechanic's shop, a while before my clown days."

Anne's shoulders slumped. "Sure. Can't hurt."

Randall opened the hood. Looked and poked around a bit. "Have any tools on hand?"

"Uh, yeah, in the back." Anne went to retrieve the spare tool box her father kept in the trunk. She moved aside the shopping bags and the air rifle box to get to it, as it had shifted to the very back. She was about to lift it up out of the trunk, but Arthur swooped in and got it for her. "Oh, thank you."

He just smiled at her before carrying it to the front, where he dropped it beside Randall. Anne had followed. "Hopefully I have what you need. My father's a stickler when it comes to preparedness, so it should all be in there."

"I'm sure I'll figure it out," he smiled at her. "Looks like it might be your starter, but I'll dig in there and see."

"Thank you," Anne said, feeling awkward about the fact that the man she'd called a fatass earlier that day was now offering to fix her car. "I appreciate it."

"Don't mention it," Randall mumbled, as he started rummaging through the tool box.

Anne turned back to see Arthur and Gary. "You guys can sit in the car with Tommy and me, while we wait?"

Both men nodded eagerly and mumbled their thanks before climbing into the backseat. Anne hustled over back to the driver's side and got in just as quickly. Arthur was now sitting behind Anne and Gary behind Tommy. Everyone was quiet for a few moments, with nothing but the occasional shoppers passing by, talking, or the clanks and dings and whirs coming from the front of the car.

Anne turned around, draped her arm over the front bench seat. "How long have you guys been workings as elves today?"

Arthur and Gary exchanged a look and shrug. "I'd say since around 9 this morning," Gary said.

Anne whistled. "And you have to do the same tomorrow?"

Both men nodded. "Every day until Christmas," Arthur confessed.

"You must be awfully tired." Anne looked at both men but let her eyes settle on Arthur.

"Oh, not so much, I mean…." Arthur tried to shrug off the idea.

"Hey," she looked him dead in the eye, "It's okay to be tired."

Arthur let out a breath. "Guess I am a little," he admitted.

Anne smiled at Arthur, as she lay her head on her arm resting on the car seat. Kept staring at him, which made him squirm in his seat, try to hide the smile curling his mouth.

After a few more quiet moments. "It's nice of your colleague to help us like this. It must be something bad if it's taking this long."

"To be fair, we never knew about Randall's alleged mechanical skills before this…." Gary offered.

"Ah. Well, if he can get this old jalopy going, I'd be forever grateful. Maybe even offer to drop you guys off somewhere if it's not too far?"

Both men in the backseat perked up. Gary spoke first. "Actually, we don't have enough cab fare to get back to our workplace in the city. That's why we happened to be around when we heard your car. If you could drop us off anywhere near there, we'd be eternally grateful."

Anne nodded. "If your friend there can get this car working, that's the least I can do. Of course."

Some further uncounted moments passed before Arthur started craving a cigarette. He stepped out of the car and braved the cold winds to light one. He did his best to keep it from being extinguished. After a minute, Anne stepped out of the car and stood beside him. He felt anxious again having her there close to him, but in the good way.

He wasn't sure what to say when she plucked the cigarette from between his fingers and took a drag from it herself. "Uhhhh…."

"Sorry," she said on an exhale of cigarette smoke from a second drag. She handed the cigarette back to him. "I just needed that."

Arthur stared at her a bit. Examined all her features, the shine in her dark hair as it whipped around her in the windy night, the way her clothes lay on her frame, the way she held the Orange Julius cup in her fingers.

"How old are you, exactly?"

Anne looked up at him and smiled. "Nineteen."

"Nineteen," Arthur whispered, awestruck.

"What, too young or too old?" Anne smirked.

"Oh no, no. Just right."

Anne leaned in closer. "Not too young for someone like you?"

Arthur felt his cheeks burn, despite the cold air lashing at his face. He could feel his Laugh trying to bubble to the surface, but he coughed it away. "Not at all." His eyes shifted downward. "If 31 isn't too old for you."

"Not at all," Anne echoed.

Anne and Arthur locked eyes as they moved even closer. He reached out a tentative, shaking hand to her face, and just barely touched her cheek. A headiness grew between them as tension was building. Arthur had gathered enough courage to lean in closer; their lips were just centimeters apart–

"Just about done. Looks like it was your starter," Randall called out from behind the hood of the Oldsmobile.

Both Anne and Arthur sighed in disappointment. She turned to Randall. "Sounds good!" She stepped around front explained the deal she'd made with the other two men about driving them back to the city.

"That's great…but I just did this to help…."

"That's lovely of you, but in light of your guys' predicament and everything I think it's the least I can do."

Randall smiled warmly at her. "Thank you, Ma'am."

Anne, not used to being referred to as a Ma'am, smiled crookedly. "Of course."

When Randall had finished his repairs, Anne attempted to turn the car over. To her great relief, it started.

"Alright, everyone hop in. We're headed for Gotham."

….

The trip took about 40 minutes. Anne insisted on driving them right up to the door of Ha's Ha's.

"Here," Arthur said, handing her the travel allowance as they stood outside in the street; Gary and Randall had already rushed inside to get out of the cold. "Take it for gas. You could use it."

Anne made no move to take it. "Keep it. If it hadn't been for your guys I'd still be stuck in the mall parking lot."

"Okay…." Slowly, Arthur pocketed the money. He was about to thank her and wish her good night, but her hand shot out and grabbed his arm, causing his breath to stop.

"I would like that kiss, if you're still good for it."

Arthur chuckled nervously at first, before stopping himself. He looked down, then up at Anne. "If you really want me to…Anne."

"I do," she stated.

He leaned forward carefully. Internally, he fretted about his chapped lips and the smell of cigarette smoke on him and whether he was doing any of this right.

He touched his lips to hers in a tender kiss, then just as carefully drew back.

Anne had a big smile on her face.

Both of them jumped: "Jeeze, you two, get a room or something," Tommy said as he leaned forward out of the driver's side window.

Anne looked at him sharply. "None of your business. Now sit back down in the car."

Tommy rolled his eyes before doing as he was told.

Anne turned back to Arthur, shrugged. "Little brothers."

Arthur just shook his head. "Kinda makes me wish I had one."

"Hm, are you sure about that?" They both laughed.

"Well, we better get going. You have those numbers, right?"

"Yeah–yeah. Right here," Arthur said, patting the front of his coat, over the pocket that held the folded up receipt.

She lay her hand over that pocket briefly. The pocket that just happened to be over this heart. "Don't lose it."

"I won't. Not for anything."

Anne smiled warmly. "I'll see you around, Mr….Fleck."

Arthur watched as she got in the car and drove off. It had just started to snow; the flakes fell gently around him, onto his face. He did a little hop, skip, and a jump and he headed for Ha's Ha's.


End file.
